Frank's Surprise
by MASH-Nut-4077
Summary: Went through and redid an old story that was a favorite of mine... This is MY version of how Frank went insane. Enjoy!
1. Chapter One

"Ah, the daily trough-filling."  
  
Hawkeye said, filing into the Mess Tent with B.J. and grabbing a tray like he did every morning. They walked, as if at gunpoint, up to Igor Straminksy. After examining their breakfast options suspiciously, Hawkeye held the tray up to cover his mouth and said in a stage whisper  
  
"Beej, something just moved. Did you see it?"  
  
The tall man beside him, sporting a mustache, was blinking furiously. "My eyes! They burn!" Wielding a ladle, Igor turned on them with a sarcastic look. "C'mon guys, can't you go one day without cracking a joke about the food?" "No." The two Captains replied in unision, looking grim as they recieved their powdered eggs. Along with it came two slices of toast, which, like every other food choice, had acquired the color and texture of granite. Unfortunately, that was the case with their two small sausages as well. With an annoyed look from Igor, they set their trays down on the end table and each grabbed a cup, filling it with mud. Er, coffee.  
  
"Hey Colonel, Margaret, Father, Radar, can we sit here?"  
  
BJ asked, completely disregarding the fact that Frank was sitting in his customary place across from the blonde head nurse. He looked up, lips pursed, and said in an annoyingly officious voice "Excuse me Captain Hunnicutt, but I believe I have some say in whether or not you... you... guys sit here!" Hawkeye looked down with a surprised expression, gave a cheeky smile, and replied instead. "Sorry, Frank. We tend to not notice when rodents sit at the table, since it's become such a normal thing."  
  
Margaret Houlihan, soon to be Margaret Penobscott, spluttered visibly into her coffee as her shoulders shook with laughter. For onc, she actually enjoyed it when those two hooligans teased the 'Lipless Wonder', as she had called Frank at one point. The Major himself was now glaring heatedly at the both of them.  
  
"Burns, cool it."  
  
Colonel Potter warned with a stern look at his second in command. Frank had looked ready to burst lately, with all the jokes he had been subjected to by Pierce and Hunnicutt. "Boys, leave the Major alone." He said seriously to Hawkeye and BJ. Both donned pouty expressions and took their seats... one on each side of Frank. The table was silent, for that was the best way to make sure you could actually keep the food down, until Father Mulcahy piped up  
  
"Er, if anyone's interested, I'm collecting donations for Sister Theresa's Orphanage..."  
  
"Oh, really? Gee, that's swell!"  
  
Radar said, reaching for his pocket. Colonel Potter, Margaret, Hawkeye, and B.J. did the same. "Here's my twenty, Padre." Potter said, and was followed by several others. "I only got ten for 'em this month, Father, sir." "That's alright, my son. The orphans appreciate every cent they recieve." Hawkeye and BJ each put forth fifteen dollars, which the good Father collected with a smile. "I speak for all the poor Korean orphans when I say 'thank you'." He said, though he couldn't help but glance in Frank's direction. Hawkeye nudged him with narrowed eyes.  
  
"Whaaat?" Frank whined, dropping his fork. "What'd you do that for?" "Aren't you going to donate something to the orphanage, Frank?" Wrinkling his pointed nose in disgust, he reached into the pocket of his fatigues and pulled out a small leather change purse. With a snort, Hawkeye asked "A change purse, Frank?" Glaring, he replied "It's handy, and it says 'no' to pickpockets with a capital 'N'!" Amid peals of laughter from all over the mess tent, Frank reached into the small bag and withdrew two quarters. As they were placed into his hand, Mulcahy smiled slightly. "Thank you, my son." Frank grumbled quietly as he went back to picking at his eggs. The others were silent as they finished their breakfast. 


	2. Chapter Two

Outside, Frank was putting his tray into the pile of those that had been eaten off of that morning. Suddenly, a calm, yet annoyed voice came from behind him.  
  
"Ferretface, you didn't have to be so stingy on funds for the orphanage in there." He whirled around to find Hawkeye Pierce standing behind him, hands in his pockets. His hard blue eyes sparkled slightly. "That's none of your business, you- you- buttinski!" "Oh, it's my business alright, Frank. If you're a little nicer next time, you might not find any more surprises in your boot."  
  
He flushed with anger. "What did you do to my boot?!" "I don't know... go find out for yourself." The Major walked briskly towards the Swamp, pausing only to glare back at Hawkeye for a moment. As he entered the tent, he bent down to pull his secondary pair of boots from under the cot, only to find that there was nothing wrong with them whatsoever. Nothing had been stuffed inside, the laces weren't tied together, and they didn't smell weird. "Something smells fishy here... and it's not my boots..." Frank muttered to himself, unaware of the fact that Hawkeye and B.J. were standing outside the tent and looking through. When he went to step back, he couldn't move. Trying to ignore the two Captains' laughs from outside, he fell backwards, boots still glued to the floor, and landed on his back with his legs bent.  
  
"Ah, like a fly on flypaper. Hopelessly attracted, hopelessly trapped." Hawkeye said, chuckling, as Frank did something smart for once. He thought to slip his feet out of the boots, took one look at the glue that had been smeared on the floor prior to his arrival, and pursed his lips. /No, best not spoil it./ He thought, merely getting up, sitting down on his cot, and setting to the task of prying his boots loose.  
  
The two troublemakers seemed slightly crestfallen and walked into the tent. Both felt they'd been cheated out of an amusing reaction. Hawkeye looked Frank up and down, before shrugging at BJ, and flopping down onto his cot. BJ did the same. "Breakfast is such a tiresome meal..." The former groaned, placing one forearm over his eyes. BJ's were simply closed. The Major smiled a lipless smile and said "Tsk tsk, I don't think so, Captains. Pierce, you're on PostOp duty and Hunnicutt, the Colonel wants you in his office." They stirred and went to get up... but couldn't. "FRANK!" For once, they were on the recieving end of a joke from Frank Burns. He gave a high-pitched giggle, and held up a jar of the same fast-drying glue that they had used on his boots. "Not so funny now, is it?" There was a distinct ripping noise that was the cause of Frank's sudden urge to turn around and do only one thing. Run. Hawkeye and BJ were standing there, strips of green canvas stuck to the backs of their robes thanks to the fact that the glue had thinned the cot material. 


	3. Chapter Three

A wild chase, one black eye, and six court martial threats later, Frank was holding a cold pack over his face and laying on his cot in the Swamp. Hawkeye and BJ were shifting uncomfortably on theirs, waiting for the two new ones that had just been requisitioned. With the Quartermaster's usual pace, that would take a long time. "You two degenerates sure are lucky!" Came an annoyed remark from the corner. "I could've had you both court martialled for this, if that old coot hadn't talked me out of it!" Make that seven court martial threats. "And the old coot makes his grand entrance." Colonel Potter said through the small window in the Swamp's door, throwing an irritated glance in Frank's direction as he walked in.  
  
"Oh, hello Colonel, sir..." He said with a nervous giggle. "I wasn't talking about you, sir, oh no... some other old coot."   
  
"Sure you were."  
  
"Er, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Frank asked, changing the subject as the older man sat down on the end of BJ's cot. "I'm glad you asked, Burns. Spares me the rest of your pleasantries." Potter said sarcastically. "Just thought I'd let you boys know, we got a mess o' wounded headed our way. They should be here some time within the next hour or so."  
  
"Attention all personnel! Wounded in the compound, buses and ambulances, and choppers on the pads! Cancel your weekend activities, folks, this'll be a long one!"  
  
Hawkeye sat up and groaned. "Weekend activities? It's only Thursday!" The four of them stood up and trudged sullenly to the O.R.   
  
They put on their caps, gowns, and facemasks, scrubbing before they put on their white rubber gloves. So much white, only to be stained red all too soon. Klinger rushed into the scrub room dressed in his usual nurse's outfit. "Captain Pierce, there's a man in PreOp with an unexploded grenade lodged in his thigh!"  
  
"Damn!" Hawkeye swore, recieving a fatherly look from the Colonel. "Pierce, you want me to take him for ya? Bouncin' buffalos, you look tired enough to drop on the spot. Well, you did a second ago, anyway." He was now wide-eyed and rigid, having gone to stare through the doors into the Pre-Operative Ward. Not answering Potter, he yelled "Alright, corpsmen, sandbag the O.R. walls! Come on now, quick! Move the ones out that can wait, and get the top-priority man in here stat!"   
  
Klinger saluted and ran for PreOp, dashing out the doors as Radar came in at equal speed. "Sir, there's a guy back there with half his stomach blown away! Major Houlihan says it's gonna take two surgeons and a whole lotta blood!" BJ looked at Colonel potter. "We'll take him, Radar." That left only Frank, who wandered aimlessly into PreOp to determine which of the patients needed treatment badly. In reality, none of them did; none were dead yet. Suddenly, Father Mulcahy came in holding one end of a stretcher, while Klinger held the other. The soldier requiring immediate treatment had already been left in Hawkeye's hands.  
  
"Major," The Father said quickly "This little girl needs help. She was injured when her home was bombed. She's an orphan now... her parents were killed when the South Koreans bombed her home." Big mistake. "What side is she on?" "Well, I'm afraid her parents were communists." Mulcahy said, caught up in the moment's hurry and not realizing that he had just handed the daughter of two communists over to Frank Burns.  
  
"Communists?!" Frank spat, seething with rage. "I will NOT operate on any commie brat!"   
  
"But please, Major!" Father Mulcahy begged, helping carry the stretcher into the operating room. "She needs immediate attention!" The beautiful little Korean girl, only around six or seven years, was covered in crimson blood. Most of her dress was torn away, revealing deep lacerations on her chest and shoulders, and a gash in her throat that resulted in extensive blood loss. Frank followed them in, still ranting angrily. "No! OUR boys are top priority here!"  
  
Just then, Hawkeye looked up from the grenade he was holding lightly in a towel, and glared at him. "Just do it!" He said quietly, taking cautious steps toward the window. With one hand he broke the glass and threw it hard out into the grass, several yards from the building. It exploded in a cloud of smoke and metallic fragments, some of which bounced off the outer wall.  
  
"Hawkeye? Do you have a moment?" The good Father asked with a pleading look that automatically captured the other surgeon's attention. BJ and Potter looked up from their patient and glared at Frank, waiting to see if Hawkeye would finish with his current patient or go to the orphan. He was walking hurriedly toward the stretcher, when Nurse Cutler, who had been taking the girl's pulse, stood up and shook her head. It was too late... she was dead. 


	4. Chapter Four

Hawkeye just stood there, his murderous stare resting on the cowering man before him. Fists clenched and unclenched within bloody white gloves. His icy gaze settled momentarily on the orphan. Her black hair, coated with dirt and dust from the shell, fell easily over her dark face and closed eyes. One small hand rested on her stomach, while the other bent upward and lie on her chest. She looked so peaceful.  
  
Suddenly he lunged at Frank, his arms extended and reaching for the man's neck. Colonel Potter, though, who had managed to get away from his operation for only a moment, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back. The Captain fought, but the older man held tight. "Pierce, knock it off! We got a duty to do here, and by God we're gonna do it! We all feel badly for the little girl, but there are other patients who need the attention of your gifted hands more than Frank's face!"  
  
He let go, and Hawkeye just stood there, still staring at the little girl. Then he quietly requested "Nurse, gloves..." and waited for the next patient to be brought in. Frank's face was glistening with sweat beads, and he actually realized how lucky he really was.  
  
*  
  
13 hours and 45 minutes later, though, he was one of the unluckiest men on earth. Frank lead the procession of tired, cranky surgeons out of the O.R., walking quickly and glancing behind him every few seconds. "Looking for someone?" A harsh, bitter voice came from in front of him and a strong, smooth-palmed hand gripped his throat. The Major's eyes bulged and his face turned a pale scarlet color as he focused on Hawkeye's angry face before him. "You bastard..." He whispered, his grip tightening until the color began to drain from Frank's face and he began panting and gasping for air.  
  
"Hawkeye!"   
  
BJ ran up behind him and grabbed his wrist, squeezing to the point that Hawkeye was forced to let go of Frank's throat. Stumbling backwards, Frank rubbed the bruising area and attempted to regain his breath, watching as BJ tried to calm Hawkeye down. "Hawk, he's not worth it." "You're right, Beej." Hawkeye said calmly, allowing his best friend to steer him into the Swamp. Sprawling on the cot, he rolled over and ignored the martini offered. His face was streaked with tears.  
  
Frank slept in Radar's office that night. 


	5. Chapter Five

The next morning at 5:00 sharp, Frank scuttled into the Mess Tent and grabbed a tray. Always one who was good about eating his food, he filled it and usually ate every bit of it. Today, though, fear had dissolved his appetite. And with good reason, too. "No sign of Pierce, yet...." He was mumbling absently, when someone spoke from behind him. "You're lucky. Hawkeye's in the Swamp writing a letter. He'll be along to breakfast in about twenty minutes." Frank jumped at the sound of BJ's voice and dropped his tray with a clatter.   
  
After filling another, Frank took his seat away from everybody else, trying to ignore the dirty looks that were constantly thrown his way from all around the tent. By now, everyone in the camp knew what had happened. "It's not my patriotic-American fault some commie pinko kid died... wouldn't have been able to save her anyway..." He said, talking to himself. Once again, there was an answer behind him. "Oh, she could've been saved, Frank. Just a quick diagnosis was all it would've taken." The voice was holding only a small trace of anger. Frank became still, his fork raised in midair, all his muscles tense. "Oh, don't worry, /Major/." Hawkeye said, still perfectly calm and collected. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just here to take pity on you. It must be hard, being born such a horrible person." Then he turned and walked over to another table, sitting down with Colonel Potter, Margaret, Radar, Klinger, and BJ.  
  
*  
  
Several days later, back in Fort Wayne, Indiana, an angry scream rattled the Burns' house. 


	6. Chapter Six

It'd been almost two weeks since the 'incident', and his fear of Hawkeye was lessening once more. Frank waited until Hawkeye was on PostOp duty and BJ was asleep. Then he made his move. The ferrety little man made his way quickly across the compound, reading the sign on her door that was clearly illuminated by the tall lights placed at intervals among the tents. "Major M. Houlihan. Knock before entering." It read, painted on the wood in a neat white. Putting on his most calm face he raised a fist to knock, before turning to jelly, and tapping gently on the window.  
  
"Maaargaret?"  
  
He whined, and when he didn't get an answer, continued "Margaret, it's Frank. I need your help to get back at Pierce! He's a complete moral degenerate, and I just know he did something. Can I come in?" Whether this was Frank trying to get into Margaret's tent, or simply into her pants again, nobody knew. But the sharp voice from within called "Fine, come on in, Frank."  
  
With an excited look, he pulled open the door, saying rather loudly "Why, Margaret, do you have a cold? Your voice sounds positively awful!" Suddenly, he stopped. The woman who occupied Major Houlihan's tent was sitting with her back to him, brushing her hair. Her shoulder-length, light brown hair. And it wasn't with one of Margaret's brushes either; this brush was made of grey marble with blue velvet patterns on the back.  
  
The exact same brush Frank had gotten his wife for their anniversary.  
  
"M-M-Margaret?" He stammered, and his heart began to pound as the woman reached up with slim white hands and wrapped the shiny brown hair into a tight bun. Then she got up and turned around, and her face nearly caused Frank to faint. There stood Louise Burns, and boy was she pissed.  
  
"Francis Marion Burns! In all my life I've never seen such a lowlife!" Louise screeched, standing tall over the cowering man that was her husband. Well, for the moment at least. "I always new you were the cheating type, you scumbag! But it took a lowly Captain to make me realize it! When I find this... Hawkeye fellow, I'll give him a medal of commendation! I should have listened to my mother. You were trouble from the start! I only stayed with you for the sake of the kids, but I see that doesn't matter now. Well fine! You want this, this, blondehaired beauty, then you can stay right the hell in Korea and die here too! Frank, I want a divorce!" Her voice dipped to a low growl and she added "And my father's taking you out of his will."  
  
The cowardly man suddenly began to cry spasmodically, crouching in the corner for a moment, before attempting to rush out the door. What he met, though, was the applause of the whole camp. They had been standing outside the tent the whole time, and Hawkeye especially with a look of triumph. There was a hush as Margaret waded through the crowd and stepped into her tent. Igor Straminski still held the door open for everybody to watch.  
  
"What's this all about?" She exploded, pretending to be enraged, but rather holding back a smile. Finally, the Lipless Wonder would get what he deserved. Mrs. Burns, for the moment, turned and nodded curtly to her. "I'm sorry ma'am," she said calmly "but there was some business I had to finish with my... ex-husband." "What do you mean, ex-husband?!" Margaret asked incredulously. The entire 4077th, who had congregated outside and suddenly erupted into a fit of cheering, fell silent immediately. What kind of game was she playing? She looked at Frank, fire in her eyes.  
  
"My God, Frank, you never told me you were married!" There was a collective gasp from the party outside, but at a look from Margaret, they were silenced. As Louise stared through prim glasses, right down her nose at him, Frank looked up with wide eyes at his former secret love, smiled, and started laughing hysterically. Margaret Houlihan, soon to be Penobscott, turned and walked out of her tent. She winked at the group of people that had gathered in the compound, and walked in the direction of the Officer's Club.  
  
*  
  
The next morning, Sidney Freedman arrived with a padded truck and took Frank off to the insane asylum, where he's been ever since. 


End file.
